The Dream Thief, Kari Kilgore [reading well TXT] 📗

so he snored with every breath louder than he ever did in sleep.

Loretta got to her feet, her legs trembling, her throbbing arm held against her chest. She bound her wound the best she could, wrapping a scarf held in her bloody hand tightly around her forearm. Not perfect, but it would do until the job before her was finished.

The only question she could see was whether to end this life with his own knife or his own gun. She went as far as making sure the revolver was loaded and aiming it at Rhysto's chest before she managed to stop herself.

Putting several bullets into Rhysto might be satisfying, and she would do it without hesitation if she had no other choice. But right now she could catch her breath and think this through. He would be out for at least a few hours, possibly more.

She laughed out loud at what was stopping her. It wasn't wondering whether he deserved to die or not, or wondering if she could go through with it. It wasn't worry about disposing of the body. Even if Bess was not able to help for a while, there were plenty of options there.

Loretta simply didn't want to deal with the bloody mess of blasts or a slit throat in her own bedroom. There were neater ways.

She grabbed her robe and dropped the black knife and gun into the pockets. Before she did anything else, she had to check on Gemma and her guards. The thing she had in mind was in her kitchen anyway. She knocked, then pushed her grandmother's door open.

The older woman was still in bed and still breathing. She didn't wake when Loretta shook her, so Rhysto had likely gassed her. Gemma's color and breathing seemed normal. Without knowing exactly what the gas was, Loretta could only wait and hope she woke.

Bess was in similar condition, slumped over her chair but breathing normally. The young woman guarding the back door, barely out of her teens and new to working for Loretta, was not. Sophie's flesh was as cool as the night air, and she'd long since breathed her last.

"Burn you, Rhysto. She never did a damned thing to you. Neither did Gemma or Roma Norwood."

Loretta thought about waiting for Bess to recover, or even of trying to reach Karl or Bill. But the truth of it was none of these people, save Bill, would have likely crossed paths with Rhysto if it weren't for Loretta. And Bill's interaction would have stayed on the same level as the other independent shaw pilots: unpleasant and annoying but not deadly.

Getting help with disposing of the body was one thing. Loretta needed to kill the man herself.

She locked all the doors, knowing Bess would be able to get inside if she woke up sooner than expected. The much stronger sedative she needed was behind a false wall in her pantry, hidden behind a shelf that seemed to be loaded with spices. Turning five of the bottles in sequence tripped the mechanism, and the whole shelf slid to the side.

Loretta pulled out one vial and a larger hypodermic. This one lacked the numbing steam, but any need for avoiding pain was over. She thought for a second, then retrieved a second vial.

Even with Rhysto already drunk and sedated, she didn't want to take any chances.

He hadn't moved when she returned to her bedroom, closing the door in case Gemma woke. Loretta shoved the pilot onto his back so she could get to the big veins in his throat. She turned the black knife several times, watching the glints off the copper wrapped around the handle. She wiped her blood on his shirt and slipped the blade back into the sheath around his waist.

Part of her mind replayed their history, pleasant and erotic memories contrasted with cruelty and pain. This was the surest way to make sure he never broke through any of her defenses again as long as she lived.

As she knelt beside him, she wished he were awake. He'd go from sleep to death without ever knowing who was responsible for the last beat of his heart.

In the end, Loretta injected both vials and sat cross-legged on the floor to wait. Faster than she'd expected, the motions of his chest slowed. He gasped the last several breaths, taking longer and longer to move again. She counted to one hundred, then touched the reddened injection site.

Loretta's fingers sank into the flesh. She smelled his bladder releasing, but she wanted to feel the truth for herself. After nearly twenty years of knowing this man, half of that hoping she'd never see him again, and the last few weeks hoping for this very moment, Rhysto was dead.

Chapter 41

Loretta sipped her cafei and nodded at the appropriate pauses, letting her grandmother's words wash over her. She wasn't awake enough to interact, but she didn't want to be rude. She'd worked out how to appear interested many years ago.

Her back ached and her arms trembled from dragging two bodies out to her conventional cellar and dumping them inside. Her arm felt swollen and tender where Bess had helped her bandage it properly before she went home. Long sleeves kept it from her grandmother’s eyes. When she reached out to pour herself yet another cup, a bit of Gemma's chatter broke through.

"Is your guard quite all right?" she said. "The young woman out front?"

"My guard? Gemma, what are you talking about?"

"I know, I know. I'm not supposed to know anything about that. But I saw her clear as day in my dreams last night. Tall, beautiful, gorgeous red hair. What's her name, bobbin?"

"Her name is Bess." Loretta had never quite gotten used to these Seeing dreams, and she'd never had one herself. She knew to pay attention to them whether she understood or not. "What did you dream?"

"Is Bess doing well this morning?"

Loretta was afraid her guard would have a terrible headache from whatever Rhysto had used on her, but